


Dear Dean,

by Teaclase



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Castiel Angst, DeanCas - Freeform, Depends, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gabriel is a wingman, I'll update this as it goes, Letters, M/M, Multi, Profanity, Same with the rating, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Swearing, There's an eventual but temporary split, Writer Castiel, god I suck at tags, i think, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaclase/pseuds/Teaclase
Summary: Castiel Novak is a freelance writer who constantly holes himself up in his bedroom, often drafting letters to a character he's made up called "Dean."It's only when Castiel finds a letter in response does he realize that Dean is a bit more than a character.





	1. It's a Start.

A dreary April morning. 7AM, give or take.

The curtains in Castiel’s apartment drew themselves just wide enough to show a peek of the cloud-strewn Chicago sky, colored grey and swollen with the threat of oncoming rain. People and cars flooded the streets, weaving through each other on their morning commute.

This is where Cas flourished. In his brother’s shitty apartment. He often wondered if people used their rooms the way he used his.

Instead of a resting place, Castiel’s room was more like a sanctuary. It wasn’t a place to rest, so to speak, just to hide from all of his problems. His room was dimly lit from a three-year-old desk lamp and nothing more, the peeling oxblood wallpaper that’d been there since he’d moved in looked strangely endearing to him, not always reflecting the light perfectly but instead harboring a dull yellow gleam. His bedsheets-a knitted, deep crimson-were always ruffled in a way that looked somewhat tidy, but not quite. Like an impatient child had gone through making the bed in order to be done doing chores-which was not unlike Castiel’s work habits.

He stretched into the cheap foam of his swivel chair and rolled back a few inches, staring at the graphite lines etched into the printer paper in front of him. Glancing up, Castiel took note of the growing multitude of eraser shavings that found a home near his laptop speaker. With a grunt he pulled the blankets nestled around his hunched form closer, relishing the feeling of warmth before he turned back to his ‘work.’

“This is stupid.” He muttered to himself, fingers tapping in somewhat synchrony to the rain outside. Haphazardly, Castiel took the piece of paper in hand and read out the few lines that had taken him a surprising amount of time to come up with.

_Dear Dean,_

_Yes, this is a stupid and pointless letter to a person who probably doesn’t exist._

_~~My name is~~ _

_~~Nice to meet you~~ _

_But I’m going to do this anyway, since there doesn’t seem to be any other animated being in my life that wants to listen to me vent about my problems (I.E the fact that I cannot find a good editor for any of my drafts.)_

_So, Dean, here is my onslaught of existential problems which will most likely ruin your irrelevant, made up life._

This was a great idea.

That’s what the internet told him, anyway.

Outside of working the morning shift at a 7-11 off of Diversey Avenue and taking up writing as a means to earn more money, Castiel really didn’t have anything else to do.

Most days he wouldn’t have motivation to write, instead staring at a blank Microsoft Word document for half an hour, or he would sit and draft stupid letters to people like Dean, who was a character he’d created, half-assed in retrospect, in order for him to complain. Because he couldn’t dump all of his problems on his family, right?

His door burst open.

Castiel jumped, either from fear or from the intrusion of privacy, he didn’t know.

Gabriel-his brother and roommate-strode in with a donut, plopping himself down on Cas’ bed without a second thought and stuffing it into his mouth.

“I thought the lock on that door was fixed, Gabriel.” Cas grunted, turning around and giving his brother a fixed glare. Gabriel didn’t seem to care, responding with a donut-muffled laugh.

“Good morning to you, too, little brother.” Gabe gestured to the tilted doorknob to the entrance to Castiel’s room. “It’s easier for me to burst in here without any warning than having to knock and actually care about privacy.”

A minute of silence went by as Cas tried (and failed, mind you) to get back to writing.

“When’re you gonna get out of this hobbit hole, Cas?” Gabriel tilted his head, eyes landing on the paper Castiel was trying to hide from view. His eyebrow quirked up.

“Hey, lemme see that.” Gabe reached for the paper just as Castiel yanked it away, holding it a foot or so from his brother’s intruding hand.

“Nope! No, no n-” The two dissolved into what you could call a wrestling match, Cas falling out of his chair and fending away his brother with his foot, Gabriel persisting despite the denying kicks to his chest. With a comical leap Gabriel fixed his grip on the paper and tugged it away, plopping himself back down on the bed.

“What’s this? A _looove_ note?” Gabriel slurred the ‘o,' a smug, godforsaken smirk drawn across his features. Cas scoffed as he gave up trying to retrieve his letter. Even Gabriel knew that Cas wasn’t exactly the most welcoming when it came to romantic relationships. I mean-Cas wanted to love someone. To share a mutual bond of trust and romantic affection-but it was hard. Especially when you took in the fact that Castiel came off as standoffish and apathetic-not to mention that he was fairly inept at social interaction.

“Who’s Dean?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“He’s..no one. I made him up.” Cas gave an awkward glance out the window, mouth down turned.

“W-Wait. So you’re telling me that instead of talking to real people, you write letters to imaginary-“

“Yes.” Castiel cut him off. He picked at the skin on his thumb before continuing.“But you’re making this sound as if I’m a complete lunatic.”

Gabriel let out a choked guffaw. “Oh, Cas, you should see the look on your face.” He feigned the action of wiping a tear away and let his laugh lower to a chuckle.

“Let me guess. You’re going to say I need to get out more.” Cas deadpanned. His eyes were half-lidded in an annoyed stare.

“You read my mind, bucko.” Gabriel stood and brushed nonexistent bits of dust off of his front. Looking up, he gestured with Cas' letter. “There’s a coffee shop that I found yesterday-Cafe Jumping Bean, I think? It’s right off of South Bishop street. You should come with.” Gabriel flashed Castiel a smile.

“I’m not sure I have a choice, do I?” Cas sighed, straightening and tugging his blanket off of his shoulders. Gabriel tipped his head forward, a cocky smirk etched onto his face.

 

“Nope. Y’ don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'll try to update this as soon as I can.


	2. An Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds a letter.

_Dear Dean,_

 

_Hello again._

_Currently I’m at a seedy cafe off of St. Bishop Street, drafting this letter to you under my brother’s observant-and, to be completely honest here-concerned gaze._

_At least he’s happy. The avocado toast here isn’t actually that bad. Gabriel gave me a bit of his and it’s...not as overrated as critics call it._

_Oh Lord, did I actually say that?_

_I’m going to pretend that the last three sentences I just wrote down don’t exist._

_I wonder if you’d like avocado toast, Dean._

_To be honest, I picture you as more of a ham or turkey sandwich guy._

_They have both of those here at this cafe, which is appropriately named after what I think is a brand of children’s clothing. But I digress._

_Strangely, Dean, writing to you is somewhat therapeutic._

_Even if you’re not real._

_I kind of wish you were, but that would be weird._

_You’d probably hate Gabriel. No offense to him, of course. Actually, wait, full offense. Double offense. He’s dragging me out here to be in front of people._

_I like to think that I have my life in line-but in reality I don’t know what I’m doing._

_I act as ordinary as I can in front of people but, to quote Albert Camus, “Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.”_

_Not that I’m calling myself outside of normal. Whatever normal is._

_I don’t feel as if I fit in. That makes sense, right?_

_~~Sometimes I feel as if~~ We need to go now and do something else. (Gabriel and I do) I’ll write to you tomorrow. Or later in the day, depends on how...what’s the word? Lonely. Yes. It depends on how lonely I feel._

 

_Best regards,_

  
_Cas_

 

Dean found the letter laid out on his bedside table. It was a piece of folded printer paper with his name written in neat cursive on the top, the letters all swirly and close together.

 

“What the f...” His voice trailed off as he set it down, eyes narrowing.

 

“Sam!” He turned, voice rising to a yell as he called out the door.

 

No response.

 

“ _Sam!_ ” Dean yelled again, brows furrowing as he looked down the hall.

 

“What?” a voice responded, muffled by the walls of their duplex.

 

“Did you put this in my room?!”

 

“Put _what?!_ ”

 

“Put th-Just get the fuck up here!”

 

Sam swung into the hallway, hastily doing the remaining buttons on his plaid shirt.

 

“Where’re you _doing?_ ” Dean raised a brow, eyeing his little brother’s getup.

 

“Date with Jess.” Sam huffed, squinting at the paper in Dean’s hand.

 

“When does someone go on a date at 11 A.M-” Dean cut himself off,

 

“Normal people, Dean.” Sam deadpanned, forgetting about his shirt buttons momentarily. He glanced back down at the letter.

 

“What’s this?” He tilted his head to the side, brown hair falling adjacent to his face.

 

“That’s what I was asking you. If this is a prank, I swear to go-”

 

“No, no. I seriously don’t know what this is.” Sam looked at Dean, who harbored a genuine expression of disbelief. He had good reasons to, especially if you took in Sam’s habits as a highschooler, and that one time he-

 

Y’know what? I’m not going to continue with that sentence.

 

“You look like you’re lying.” Dean pressed, pursing his lips and leaning against the doorframe.

 

“I-I’m not! I swear.” Sam looked himself up and down, checking for any faults in his outfit.

 

“Collar.” Dean muttered, turning his attention back to the letter.

 

“What?”

 

“ _Collar._ It’s all flipped up. Fix it. You’re going on a date, right?” Dean let out a puff, rereading the handwritten words.

 

“Yeah, like you know anything about that.” Sam scoffed, playfully slinging his arm across Dean’s shoulder. The elder Winchester rolled his eyes.

 

“You still haven’t fixed your collar.”

 

“Fine, fine! Okay then, mom.”

 

“Oh, shut up. You have somewhere to be.”

 

Sam let out a faint laugh as he stepped away.

 

“I’ll make sure to be out of the house later. Y’know, if you’re, like, bringing Jess home or somethin’ weird like that.” Dean pushed off of the doorframe and snickered at Sam’s disgusted yelps of protest.

 

“Ew! Dean! That’s disgusting.” Sam’s face screwed up before he turned, heading down the stairs.

 

“Love you too, Sammy.”

 

Dean heard the garage open promptly and the door shut. Of course, his little brother would be driving that piece of crap Dodge Charger.

 

He looked back down to the letter in his hand, still neat and pen-marked.

 

First of all,

Who the _hell_ was Cas?

 

Dean didn’t remember knowing anyone by the name of Cas. Or any variants of Cas, either. Of course, there was Cassie, but this sounded nothing like her. Cassie wouldn’t quote-what was his name? Albert Camus? The guy sounded like a person his teachers would mention in high school physics class, which was something Dean didn’t pay attention to.

 

Dean glanced down. This ‘Cas’ character talked about him as if he didn’t exist. Judging from the other bits in the letter, this wasn’t the first note Cas had written.

 

He stood and walked over to his bedside table, picking up an empty can of beer and tossing it onto the floor. God, his room stunk of week old alcohol and car grease. When you took it into account, he was a fucking mess.

 

Dean’s hand came upon a small stack of more letters right under a stack of old, abandoned college course math books.

 

_How did these get in here?_

 

“Aha.” He said to himself, obviously pleased as he pulled the plethora of papers out from under the pile of books. “There you are.”

 

He took a skim through the contents. The topic of the letters were pretty simple, actually. Whoever this Cas was, these things documented the mundane and ordinary happenings in his life.

 

Actually-wait.

 

Dean squinted as he studied what Cas had written. From what he saw, Cas was an awkward shell of a person. Didn’t sound especially..unique, but he seemed nice. Cute, even, in the way that he described things.

 

_Strangely, Dean, writing to you is somewhat therapeutic._

_Even if you’re not real._

_I kind of wish you were, but that would be weird._

 

Oh.

 

So, to Cas, Dean was little more than a character. A figment of his own imagination.

 

Did this guy have any friends?

 

Dean’s guess was a hard no.

 

This whole situation seemed off. But Sam already confirmed it wasn’t him who wrote or put the letters in Dean’s room, and Dean didn’t know anyone remotely related to this ‘Cas.’ He sat down on his ruffled bed sheets.

 

Sucking in a deep breath, he shuffled the papers into what he thought was chronological order, then began reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
